THE GARLAND;

OR,

POETRY

FOR

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH,

LONDON:

GROOMBRIDGE AND SONS,

PATERNOSTER ROW.

MDCCCL.

2 8. a s. 7.

ADVERTISEMENT.

We all remember with pleasure some of the simple verses which we learnt in childhood. With some of them our best and holiest feelings are associated, and often do they speak to us in the midst of sorrow, and cheer the long watches of the night.

This little book has been printed in a cheap form in order to make this pleasure easily obtained by all ranks, and it is hoped that both old and young will find something in it that will suit their various tastes and capacities.

PART I,

THE CHILD TO THE ROBIN. Come here, little robin; come here to me, You cannot live in a leafless tree; You must not perch on the snowy stone, And chirp so sadly all alone. Come under my window, and I will spread For you every morning some crumbs of bread; Till summer returns I will feed you still, And keep you in safety, if you will. And then when the fields are green

and

gay,
Your merry song will my care repay;
I would not hurt you, my pretty thing,
I love too well to hear you sing.

BROTHERLY LOVE.
The God of heaven is pleased to see
Brothers and sisters who agree,
And listens to the praise they bring,
When little children join to sing.
The gentle child that tries to please,
That does not quarrel, fret, and tease,
That would not say an angry word;
That child is pleasing to the Lord.
Great God! forgive, whenever we
Forget thy will and disagree:
And grant that each of us may find
The sweet delight of being kind.

THE ROBIN'S PETITION. When the leaves had forsaken the trees,

And the forests were chilly and bare, When the brooks were beginning to freeze,

And the snow waver'd fast through the air ; A robin had fled from the wood

To the snug habitation of man;
On the threshold the wanderer stood,

And thus his petition began:
The snow's coming down very fast,

No shelter is found on the tree,
When you hear this unpitying blast,

I pray you take pity on me.
The hips and the haws are all gone ;

I can find neither berry nor sloe ;
The ground is as hard as a stone,

And I'm almost buried in snow. • My dear little nest, once so neat,

Is now empty, and 'ragged, and torn; On some tree should I now take my seat,

I'd be frozen to death before morn. • Oh, throw me a morsel of bread!

Take me in by the side of your fire ! And when I am warmed and fed,

I'll whistle what all will admire. • Till the sun be again shining bright,

And the snow be all gone, let me stay ;
Oh, see what a terrible night!

I shall die if you drive me away.
And when you come forth in the morn,

And are talking and walking around,
Oh ! how will your bosom be torn,

When you see me lie deaď on the ground.

* Then pity a poor little thing,

And throw me a part of your store ! I'll fly off in the first of the spring,

And never will trouble you more.'

MANY QUESTIONS AND ONE ANSWER.

In winter, where can be the flowers,

And leaves that look so green?
There's not a bird in all the bowers,

Or daisy to be seen !
And who will bring them back again

When pleasant spring comes out,
And plant them up and down the lane,

And spread them all about?
And who will send the little lambs,

With wool as soft as silk,
And teach them all to know their dams,

And where to find the milk ?
And who will tell the pretty bird

To build its nest on high,
And, though it cannot speak a word,

To teach its young to fly?
The Lord in heaven,—there he dwells,

Who all these things can do!
How good he is! The Bible tells

Much more about him too.

THE DAISY.
I'm a pretty little thing,
Always coming in the spring,
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground,